Blackadder: Darling, what are you doing here?
Darling: Bullet in the foot.
Blackadder: I can understand people at the front lines shooting themselves but you're 30 miles behind the trenches.
Darling: I didn't do it, the general did it.
Blackadder: Got tired of you already, has he?
Darling: He wasn't aiming at my foot.
Blackadder: Oh, so he was going for your head.
Darling: He wasn't aiming at anything.
Blackadder: So he was aiming for between your legs.
[Blackadder is selling his house. Mr. And Mrs. Pants are looking around.]
Mrs. Pants: Strange smell.
Blackadder: Yes, that's the servant - he'll be gone.
Mr. Pants: You're really worked out your banter, haven't you?
Blackadder: No, not really. This is a different thing, it's spontaneous and it's called wit.
[Blackadder puts the phone down.]
Baldrick: Who was that?
Blackadder: Strangely enough Baldrick, that was his Holiness Pope Gregory IX, inviting me to join him for drinks aboard his steam yacht, the Saucy Sue, currently wintering in Montego Bay, with the England cricket team, and the Balinese Goddes of Plenty.
Blackadder: No, not really. I've been ordered to HQ - no doubt means that idiot General Melchett is about to offer me an attractive new opportunity to have my brains blown out for Britain.
King Richard IV: Tonight, honoured friends, we are gathered to celebrate a great victory, and to mourn a great loss. A toast to our triumph! And I raise a royal curse upon the man who slew Richard, our noble king!
Ghost of King Richard: [stands, points to Edmund.] It was him!
Edmund: Oh my god!
King Richard IV: Quiet at the end there! Whoever it was...
Ghost of King Richard: It was him. Edna!
King Richard IV: Wherever he be...
Ghost of King Richard: He's down there at the end!
King Richard IV: He shall be struck down!
Ghost of King Richard: Well then, get on with it, you stupid oaf. He's there!
Baldrick: My Uncle Baldrick was in a play once.
Baldrick: Yeah. It was called Macbeth.
Blackadder: And what did he play?
Baldrick: Second codpiece. Macbeth wore him in the fight scenes.
Blackadder: So, he was a stunt codpiece.
Baldrick: Yeah, that's right.
Blackadder: Did he have a large part?
Baldrick: Depends who was playing Macbeth.
Blackadder: Is the turnip ready for the turnip surprise?
[Lord Percy and Baldrick start snickering.]
Baldrick: Yes it is, my lord.
Blackadder: Then what is so funny?
Lord Percy: While preparing the turnip surprise, we had a surprise. We came across a turnip that was exactly the same shape as a thingy.
Blackadder: Oh, really?
Lord Percy: It was a great big thingy.
Baldrick: I found it particularly ironic my lord, because I've got a thingy shaped like a turnip.
Blackadder: Percy, you are dismissed from my services.
Percy: Me? Why?
Blackadder: Because Percy, far from being a fit consort for a prince of the realm, you would bore the leggings off a village idiot. You ride a horse rather less well than another horse would. Your brain would make a grain of sand look large and ungainly. And the part of you that can't be mentioned, I am reliably informed by women around the court, wouldn't be worth mentioning even if it could be. If you put on a floppy hat and a furry cod-piece, you might just get by as a fool, but since you wouldn't know a joke if it got up and gave you a haircut, I doubt it. THAT is why you are dismissed.
Blackadder: Baldrick, I would like to say how much I will miss your honest, friendly companionship.
Baldrick: Thank you Mr. B.
Blackadder: But, as we both know, it would be an utter lie. I will therefore confine myself to saying simply sod off, and if I ever meet you again, it will be twenty billion years too soon.
Percy: I must say Edmund, it was jolly nice of you to ask me to share your breakfast before the rigours of the day begin.
Blackadder: It is said, Percy, that civilized man seeks out good and intelligent company so that through learned discourse he may rise above the savage and closer to God.
Percy: [Delighted] Yes, I'd heard that.
Blackadder: Personally, however, I like to start the day with a total dickhead to remind me I'm best.
Flashheart: Eat knuckle, Fritz. [He knocks Blackadder to the ground and holds him there with his foot.] How disgusting, a Bosch on the sole of my boot. I shall have to find a patch of grass to wipe it in. I'll be shunned in the Officer's Mess."Sorry about the pong, you fellas; trod in the Bosch and can't get rid of the WHIFF."
Blackadder: If we could dispense with the hilarious doggie-doo metaphor for a moment, I am not a Bosch, this is a British trench.
Flashheart: Thank heaven for that, thought I'd landed sausage-side. Mind if I use your phone? If word gets out I'm dead, five hundred girls will kill themselves. I wouldn't want them on my conscience, not when they oughta be on my FACE.
Blackadder: I remember Massingbird's most famous case - the Case of the Bloody Knife. A man was found next to a murdered body. He had the knife in his hand, thirteen witnesses had seen him stab the victim and when the police arrived he said 'I'm glad I killed the bastard.' Massingbird not only got him off, he got hom knighted in the New Year's Honours list, and the relatives of the victim had to pay to get the blood washed out of his jacket.
Blackadder: Sir, is there something the matter?
General Melchett: You're damned right there's something the matter! Something sinister and something grotesque. And what's worse is that it's going on right under my very nose!
Blackadder: Sir, your moustache is lovely.